The Point is to Understand
by CamsthiSky
Summary: Pidge understood a lot of things. Technology had to be the one thing she understood the most. It was reliable and predictable. It just made sense in her head. What didn't make sense? People.


Pidge understood a lot of things. Technology had to be the one thing she understood the most. It was reliable and predictable. It just made sense in her head. There wasn't much that could stump her when she sat there, typing away, hacking or coding or whatever. It. Just. Made. Sense.

What didn't make sense? People.

Pidge was smart, but she didn't understand why Keith stayed in the training room almost twenty-four seven, or why Hunk got antsy around new things, or why Lance couldn't seem to stop himself from getting on everybody's nerves, or why Shiro was always such a _rock_ , so _grounding_. She just didn't get it.

But she didn't worry much about it. She was smart enough to realize that this was something that she would probably always be clueless about, and she wasn't interested enough to pick her teammates apart.

Until she was.

Pidge had been in the kitchen, and it was late. _Way_ late. Like, she would only be getting maybe three hours of sleep if she went to be _right now_ late (Allura had basically made created a time zone just for the castle, and they were all glad for it).

Eyelids drooping, Pidge clacked the keys on her laptop. She wasn't even sure what she was doing anymore. Exhaustion coupled with stress was taking its toll, and her soft bed was calling her name. But she didn't stop typing. She didn't know why, but Pidge just couldn't seem to make herself move from her uncomfortable spot on the kitchen counter.

Lance walked in then. He looked worse than she had ever seen him, bags under his eyes, hair disheveled, only one slipper on. If it were anyone but Lance—who had had a _routine_ —Pidge wouldn't have just sat there staring. She probably would have commented on it, said something.

But she just stared. And Lance caught her staring.

His forehead crumpled immediately, looking her up and down, gaze settling on her face, just under her eyes. Pidge briefly wondered if she, too, had bags under her eyes. It wouldn't surprise her. She hadn't gotten much sleep in the past few weeks.

"Pidge?" Lance whispered, sounding confused. "What are you doing in the kitchen?"

"Typing," Pidge answered. And she was, fingers still clacking away at the keys.

Lance sighed. "Okay," he said slowly, like Pidge was a little kid who wasn't following what Lance was trying to say. That thought irritated her, so she pushed it to the side. "But why are you in the _kitchen?_ What about your room? Or the- aren't you usually in the hangar this time of night?"

How Lance knew where Pidge usually was, she didn't know. Did she care? Not really at the moment. She was exhausted and kind of beyond any and all emotion at this point. Except irritation. That one was weighing pretty heavily on her. Maybe she'd care more in the morning? After she woke up?

But Lance was still waiting for an answer, so she snapped a quick, "I had a snack earlier. I didn't bother moving afterwards." Her words were kind of huffy not that they were out in the air, but Lance didn't look the least bit perturbed. In fact, he looked faintly amused, which was actually kind of hard to pull off with how disheveled Lance was, but he managed it.

"That makes sense," he said, and moved on. Grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it up with water. "But you look kind of tired. You should go to bed."

Pidge snorted. "Don't tell me what to do."

"I didn't. I said you _should_."

Pidge frowned, but didn't respond. She typed away, ignoring Lance as he hummed a happy little tune under his breath in between sips of water. The two stayed in silence until Lance finally dumped his cup in the castle's weird dishwasher (Pidge wasn't allowed to tinker with it per Coran's rules, so she didn't really know how it worked).

"Hey."

"What."

Pidge wasn't really in the mood for Lance's antics. It was late (early) and she was tired (but wasn't ready to admit defeat yet). Her irritation from Lance's earlier tone hadn't dissipated yet, but it didn't even seem like Lance had noticed her spiking her emotions.

"Pidge, c'mon." Lance's voice was soft, and for some reason that startled her. She looked up, into blue eyes that held warmth and curiosity and unmeasurable trust, and it was all aimed at _her_. And she wondered if Lance eyes always held those things, what he was really feeling, or if this was just his vulnerability shining through because of the exhaustion he was obviously feeling. "You've got to sleep."

Pidge shook her head, suddenly feeling impossibly sad. "I know I do, it's just…." She trailed off.

It was just what?

Either her brain had shut down or Pidge was just incredibly stupid, because she could tell that what she was doing to herself was extremely stupid. Staying up for as long as she could manage it. Exhausting herself. It wasn't doing any good. And she didn't even have a good reason for doing it.

"Is this about your family?" Lance asked, his voice quiet and small.

Pidge shrugged, glancing down sadly at her laptop before she gave in, closing it and setting it aside. "Maybe. I don't know. It's hard to explain. I just don't feel comfortable sleeping."

"Why not?"

"…I don't want to talk about it." Pidge looked anywhere but at Lance.

And Lance just nodded easily. "Okay. That's okay. Just know that I'll be here whenever you're ready to talk. Like family, you know?"

Yeah, Pidge really didn't understand people. But she would like to.

* * *

Sorry about the ending. I might go back and rewrite it if it doesn't sit well with me tomorrow. Find me on tumblr at lanceaboo (voltron blog) or hometothesky (main blog that doesn't have a lot of voltron on it).

P.S. Why do I always have Lance and Pidge in the kitchen? I need to write something other than that. And if you want to help, I'm doing the concern meme on my ( tumblr ( lanceaboo). Send me an two characters and a prompt!


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